


Here Forevermore

by DeHeerKonijn, Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Merlin, Hurt Morgana, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Pining Arthur, Pining Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeHeerKonijn/pseuds/DeHeerKonijn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Nothing good has ever come from Arthur leaving Camelot without Merlin. This time is no different. Merlin is caught doing magic while the Prince is away and is banished, but if the King thinks he has rid himself of a complication, he should think again. Arthur will stop at nothing to get his Merlin back.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeHeerKonijn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeHeerKonijn/gifts).



> When I saw deheerkonijn’s art of Merlin in the claiming post, I was immediately in awe. It has been such a joy writing a story to go with the [two AMAZING pieces of art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10924833) she's done. The fic was meant to be epistolary—well, it is, but not as much of one as I’d hoped—but there was just too much other story that needed to be shared through other methods.
> 
> Thanks so much to my ever-faithful beta, Wayward Halos, who was crazy busy, yet still made time to do this for me. You rock, M! And thanks also to Jiang for helping with the summary.
> 
> And last, but certainly not least, thanks to the lovely Narlth and Sides for all their hard work to make this festival possible. It has been such fun participating in my first Reverse.
> 
> Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

All it had taken to undermine and destroy almost two years of Merlin’s meticulously constructed building of Arthur’s confidence in his abilities was four words:

 _Merlin has been banished_.

“No,” Arthur said to himself, unwilling to believe what Leon and Gwen had told him. It couldn’t possibly be true. Had he been struck down in the midst of battle he would have fared better. As the King’s son he had been raised from birth to fight, but this was a different wound, one that he hadn’t been trained for.

As he sluggishly ascended the stairs, Arthur could see and hear what was going on around him—it was a crisp, early spring afternoon framed in whites and greys, and Camelot was bustling—but he was wholly numb and felt as if the weight of the world was settling upon his shoulders and suffocating him.

Merlin was gone.

This had to be a sick joke.

But Arthur knew it wasn’t, and as the reality of the situation settled within his very soul, the magnitude of what had happened hit him with the force of an army, and it very nearly overwhelmed him. He felt physically ill and was about to sit down on the steps until he pulled himself together, but the sight of his former servant, Morris, approaching put Arthur on high alert.

The boy, who now worked for the King, was most certainly on a mission, and it was this which gave Arthur the extra push he needed to continue. He squared his shoulders and did his best to make his face as blank as possible, but a simmering anger began to build as he awaited _orders_ from his father.

“Sire, your father is awaiting your presence in the Council Chambers,” said the much too eager-to-please serving boy, obviously relishing the fact that, instead of taking orders from the King’s son, he was now giving them to him.

Without acknowledgement, Arthur brushed past the foolish boy and attempted to form a coherent response to the news that the one person he had counted on to keep him sane throughout constant upheaval was now gone.

According to Leon, Merlin had been caught doing magic... on Morgana... and he had been caught in the act by none other than _the King_.

Arthur didn't know if he was more upset or angry, but he thought that if he ever saw Merlin again, he might kill him. Not really, of course, but it was incomprehensible to Arthur how Merlin could have been so careless. However, when it came to Morgana, Arthur knew that Merlin would do anything for her. Apparently, that included outing himself as a magic user.

It was no secret to anyone that Morgana had been ill for some time. Gaius hadn’t been able to determine the cause, and Arthur’s father had nearly made himself ill worrying over her.

Apparently, Merlin had taken it upon himself to heal her.

Ever the saviour. 

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He should have known that Merlin wouldn’t be able to help himself; he had a soft spot for Morgana that Arthur didn’t understand, but there were many things about Merlin that Arthur would never understand.

But one thing he did understand was that he loved the irresponsible idiot, and the thought of him being banished had Arthur reeling.

Other than his father’s near-death of a year earlier at the hands of Edwin Muirden, Arthur couldn’t recall a time when he had feared more for another person. 

Merlin was gone. And alone. Or maybe he wasn’t alone. What if he was injured? What if he was lost? What if…

Arthur had to force himself to stop such thoughts lest he completely lose his composure, which he couldn’t afford to do at the moment. And, at least Merlin was alive…

Or so he had been told.

He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing the string of expletives he felt like shouting. He should have known this day would come.

If he’d told Merlin once over the past six months, he’d told him a hundred times to be careful when he did magic. But did the idiot listen? _Of course_ he didn’t. When did his servant ever listen to anything Arthur had told him? Well, now Merlin had made a right mess of things, hadn’t he?

According to Gwen, the King had been ready to hang Merlin as a show of implacable strength, to let everyone know that not even the Prince’s servant was immune to the rules of Camelot, but Leon had stepped in and pleaded with him to at least withhold such harsh punishment until Arthur returned from his hunt.

Arthur's father had agreed and sent Merlin to the cells, but for some reason, and neither Gwen nor Leon could understand why, the King had two of his guards escort Merlin out of Camelot during the previous night.

If only Arthur hadn’t delayed his return a day to get in one more kill.

As he neared the Council Chambers, Arthur began to shake. He was cold, so very cold. It was as if all the warmth had been removed from him. He’d never felt so alone. 

Years of rebuke from his father had slowly worn Arthur down and made him doubt himself, but then a young serving boy named Merlin had come along and Arthur’s life began to improve in increments.

Was all of that to be lost now? Arthur feared the answer would be a resounding yes. He had many strengths, but belief in himself was not one of them. Merlin had made Arthur think that he was capable of doing _anything_ , and Arthur liked to think that he had done the same for Merlin.

Arthur swallowed and could hear himself breathing. In and out. In and out. That was what he concentrated on. Slow, steady breaths. If he counted them, he wouldn’t have to think about what a fool he’d been.

Why hadn’t he insisted that Merlin accompany him on the hunt? Gaius’s illness had seemed more than enough reason to leave his servant in Camelot then, but now...

Merlin was gone.

The thought of no more Merlin in his life brought forth a sob.

How was he supposed to go on?

A year earlier, Arthur would have said that Merlin being banished served him right, but a year earlier all Merlin had been to Arthur was an idiot serving boy who gave the Prince unwanted yet needed advice on occasion, and friendship when Arthur yearned for it. 

A year earlier, Arthur hadn’t known that one day in the not-too-distant-future he would overhear his half-sister telling her serving girl, Gwen, that even as it was impossible she wished her half-brother could be with someone like Merlin because Merlin was the only person who dared challenge him.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, wanting to tear out every strand of his hair.

 _“Arthur, hold it together; working yourself up will get us nowhere good,”_ echoed the words Arthur knew Merlin would share with him if he could.

The thought calmed him—not for long, but enough for Arthur to work his way through the fog and despair to remember a lanky Merlin lying beside him in bed, pressing kisses and words of endearment to his lips, neck, and chest. It was the last time they’d been together, and it was that memory Arthur held onto.

Never seeing Merlin again was _not_ an option.

All too soon he found himself standing at the door to the Council Chambers, his father on the other side, and Arthur felt sure that his knees would buckle and his feet would be unable to carry him forward. How could his father have done this to him? It defied explanation, but Arthur knew that inexorable spite was involved.

Although he had never spoken of his and Merlin’s relationship with his father, Arthur knew that the King was aware. How could he not be? He had certainly made it clear to his son in recent months that his heir was expected to marry a princess from a nearby kingdom in order to form an alliance.

Merlin, who was neither a princess nor someone from a kingdom with which an alliance could be formed, was an unfortunate complication that needed to be dealt with.

And deal with it, Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, did.

A few deep breaths later, Arthur opened the doors and walked in, feeling as if he were the accused who was about to be judged and sentenced, just as Merlin had been. 

His father was seated where he usually was, looking every bit as intimidating as he always did while he stared at his son, an unreadable expression on his face.

Arthur, not trusting himself to speak, made his way across the room and, rather than sitting across from his father as he usually did, he went to get a chair and dragged it to the table so he could sit beside his father. Once he was seated he rested his hands on the table before him as he ever so slowly turned to face the man whom he loved, looked up to, and feared.

The tension was thick as the two continued their silent staring match, and Arthur wondered if his father had already imagined how their conversation would go and formed his response. He probably had.

At long last the King cleared his throat and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

There were so many things Arthur wished to say, but would his words help or hinder the situation? He wanted to yell at the unfairness of it all, but more than twenty years of experience told him that it was imperative that he tread carefully. It didn’t matter that he was the son of the King, the heir-apparent. If he crossed his father one too many times he knew what could happen; he’d watched Morgana being thrown in the cells for her disobedience. That could very well happen to him. If that happened, where would that leave Merlin?

His father cleared his throat again and sighed exaggeratedly, a look of exasperation on his face. 

Not knowing what else he could possibly do or say that would matter to his unfeeling father, Arthur, trying extremely hard not to tremble, opened his hands, palms up, and mouthed _why_. He hoped he didn’t look as devastated as he felt, but as his entire world was falling apart, he didn’t hold much hope that his father couldn’t read him like a book.

When he was little it had been natural and normal for Arthur to look sad in front of his father, just as it had been tolerable for the King to sit the young Arthur on his knee, hug him, and soothe his son’s soft sobs.

The intervening years had formed a chasm between that little boy and his loving father, and there was no comfort to be had from his father these days. Not to say that the two didn’t ever get on—they did, but instead of father and son, it was as King and heir.

“Why?” Arthur asked aloud, almost pleading, looking into his father’s eyes for something that would remind him of that man who had always known just what to say whenever the young Arthur had woken up from a nightmare. 

He was saddened when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

“I had no choice, Arthur,” the King stated indifferently and matter-of-factly, as if he were issuing an edict rather than ruining his son’s life. A brief look of sadness passed across his face, but it was gone all too soon.

No choice? Arthur wanted to laugh because as the son of a King, he had grown up understanding that the equality of choices within the walls of Camelot was quite disproportionate. The King and his family were the ones who had unlimited choices, and then there were the nobles who didn’t have quite the freedom of the Pendragons, though they did enjoy considerably more than the peasants. 

“You had every choice!” Arthur said, voice rising as he stood, unable to keep calm and stay silent for a second more. “Why couldn’t you have left him in the cells until I returned? Leon said you agreed to that. All you had to do was wait, that’s all you ha—” but Arthur couldn’t get the words out. “That’s all you had to do,” he said a few seconds later, much quieter and calmer. “I am sure Merlin could have explained what he was doing to Morgana; I know he had a good reason. He would not hurt her.”

“Please sit, Arthur. You are a young man, not a churlish boy.” The condescension in his father's voice and coldness in his stare were in full force.

Arthur glared, but returned to his seat. He balled his hands on the table before him and tried to speak, but he was completely heartbroken at that very second and couldn’t have said another word if his life depended on it.

“Arthur, we can’t be seen to have one set of rules for the people who reside within this kingdom and another for those we _care_ about,” and it was patently obvious by his tone that he wasn’t impressed.

“Why?” Arthur asked again, and he hoped his father understood that he wasn’t talking about rules or decrees. Nothing that had happened to Merlin at the King’s hands had anything to do with these things, but everything to do with the power a father and King had over his son and heir.

“Because you are my son and you are more important to me than anything or anyone,” his father replied as he stood and covered Arthur’s hands with his. “That boy did magic, Arthur. He defied the law of Camelot. And he is not good for you. You might think you and he were doing a decent job of hiding your burgeoning romance, but I am not so easily fooled, son. I am your father; do not presume that it escapes my notice when you are happy and when you are not.”

And there it was. Arthur, try as he may, was unable to stop the hurt from showing. With that one statement from his father, Arthur’s world came crashing down on him again, just as it had so many times before when he had needed his father but the man was too busy to deal with him.

Merlin had made Arthur happier than he’d ever been, and to know that his father had seen that and not cared… there were no words or emotions to describe that feeling.

“How could you send him away, Father? If you knew what he meant to me and that he made me happy, how could you do that?” Arthur asked, knowing his father would never give him an answer that would be anywhere near adequate.

“He cannot give you an heir,” his father said, as if that was the most obvious reason in the world. “And even if he could, what can a poor peasant boy like him possibly bring to the table? Not one thing, Arthur. He has nothing to offer Camelot or you. He is better off without us and we are most certainly better off without him.”

“You’re wrong,” Arthur said, on the verge of showing too much emotion. He loathed appearing weak in front of his father, but what he hated even more was his father’s lack of emotion. 

For all their biological connections, Arthur had never felt more distant from his father. He stood and walked out, the devastation continuing to close in on him. 

He hadn’t made it to the end of the corridor when he heard his father’s booming voice—one the King wasn’t shy about using, but one that he rarely used when talking to his son—calling out his name. Arthur thought about ignoring it, but that wouldn’t help anyone. In fact, it could very well hurt Merlin. He turned around and waited for whatever it was his father had to say.

“How long have you known about Merlin’s magic?” his father asked. He no longer looked angry, but neither did he look happy.

Magic. Arthur had to stifle a laugh because this question was more along the lines of what he’d expected to hear from his father back in the Council Chambers, not the bit about Merlin being unable to give him an heir. But, if his father expected an answer, then he didn’t know his son. Arthur shook his head and sighed as he turned and began walking again.

“What would the people of Camelot say, Arthur, if they knew you’d been colluding with a magic user? Do you think they wou—”

Arthur stopped, but didn’t bother turning around. “The people respect Merlin, father, and I doubt it would matter one way or the other if they knew he had magic,” he said, his voice low and calm. He would not allow his father to rile him further. “Magic has never hurt them that I am aware of. _You_ are the one punishing everyone for the hurt done to _you_ over twenty years ago.” It was then that Arthur thought he should probably face his father, so he turned around and frowned.

He didn’t like the idea of pointing the finger at his father in public, but he had been pushed to his limits, and there wasn’t anyone else around, so Arthur felt justified. “Since you have never seen fit to tell me what happened to turn you against magic, I cannot say if you are justified in your anger, but what I can say is that Merlin has done you no wrong, Father. He works just like everyone else who is employed in the royal household and has never given anyone reason to doubt his integrity.” And with that, Arthur had had his say; there was nothing else.

“Yet he and you are lovers, Arthur. How does that show his integrity?”

Arthur shook his head and walked away.

When he returned to his room, he heard Gwen moving about, tidying up. He wished to be left alone to fathom out just what he was to do about Merlin, his father, and everything else that seemed to be going wrong for him, but if he knew her as he thought he did, he knew she wouldn’t leave him by himself. It was maddening, but Arthur did appreciate her for caring and for dividing her time between Morgana and him. 

Gwen and Morgana were the only two others whom Arthur and Merlin had told about their being together, so Gwen was very much aware of how much he must be hurting.

“I can’t live without him, Guinevere,” he said as he ran his hands over his face, feeling as though there was no way he could go on without Merlin. He removed his jacket and threw it over the back of the chair before he began pacing.

“Well, then, that leaves you only one course of action, Sire. You have to find him. I believe in your love for Merlin and I do think that there will be a happy ending for the two of you,” she said, a small smile breaking out as she retrieved a tunic from the laundry basket and began folding it. “Do not give up hope. Not that I think you have, Sire,” she amended sheepishly. “I just meant tha—”

“I know what you meant, Guinevere,” Arthur said, putting an end to her fumbling of words. He wanted to believe what she’d said, but it was difficult to do so at the moment when he felt so lost and alone. “How could my father have done this?”

He balled his fists up and made like he was about to punch the wall, but he stopped and dejectedly slid down it instead, looking up at Gwen. “I know Merlin wasn’t trying to hurt Morgana; he adored her. Sometimes I think he loved her more than he loved me. They have a bond I don’t really understand. That's why I know he would have never done anything to harm her,” he added before he dropped his head between his knees and stared at the floor.

When gentle hands took hold of his shoulders, Arthur lifted his head and turned towards Gwen, who looked determined and resolute, and it was at that very moment he made the decision to stop feeling sorry for himself. 

He knew how easy it would be to allow despair to overtake him—it already had a rather strong hold over him as it was—but if there was any chance of getting Merlin back, Arthur knew he needed his wits about him.

“We have work to do, Guinevere. Merlin might have left me something to go on,” he added excitedly as he remembered a previous conversation he and Merlin had.

Some six months earlier, when Merlin had inadvertently revealed his magic whilst they were returning from a _hunt_ (there had been no hunting involved), Arthur hadn’t initially taken it well, but two nights away from Merlin had him reassessing his thoughts about magic, and once they were back together, Arthur and Merlin had devised a plan in the event should anything ever happen to Merlin because, being Merlin, that was always going to be a possibility.

Merlin had told Arthur about his hiding place beneath his bed, and said if anything ever happened to him that he would do his best to leave word for Arthur there. Of course, Arthur hadn’t thought Merlin would ever need to do so.

Even as Merlin was about as clumsy and accident-prone as they came, Arthur hadn’t thought he would get caught doing magic. They’d talked about how Uther would react and had understood exactly what the repercussions would be.

That Merlin was allegedly still alive was nothing short of a miracle.

Arthur stood and cleared his throat. There was much to do and time was not on their side. “You will be sitting with Morgana at the next shift change?” he asked Gwen, coming up with a plan as she nodded. Leon would be on guard duty.

Arthur needed to see Morgana, but his father had guards outside her door and had forbidden Arthur entrance, therefore he had no clue how she was doing. For all he knew, his half-sister could be dead, but he very much doubted that because not even Uther Pendragon would be able to remain stoic if that were to happen. The King adored his son (even as he surely never showed it), but he genuinely loved Morgana.

Leon, one of Arthur’s most trusted knights, was in thick with Uther, so getting information shouldn’t be a problem, or so Arthur hoped. Whilst he was looking for some sign from Merlin, Gwen could work her charm on Leon.

It was a not at all well-kept-secret that Leon was smitten with Gwen. Long ago, Arthur had frowned on such, thinking Leon was aiming well below his station in life, but his opinion on the matter had changed quite drastically in the past year thanks to a certain man-servant by the name of Merlin.

Once Gwen left to go see Leon and Morgana, Arthur decided it was time to begin his quest to get Merlin back.

As the Prince, Arthur needed no permission to enter premises, but there were certain people and premises he always sought permission from first, and Gaius was one of those. But as there was no answer when he knocked on the Court Physician’s door, Arthur decided it important enough to enter without permission. He gently opened the door and went to check on Gaius, who was asleep in his bed. Arthur pulled up the covers before continuing to Merlin's room.

As expected, it was a mess. Not that Merlin’s room wasn’t usually untidy—Arthur’s servant had never been one for neatness or order—but it was obvious that someone had been through every visible piece of anything in Merlin’s room. The sight made Arthur ill. Just because Merlin had done magic, this had happened. Didn’t these people realise what good magic could do? Not that Arthur was an expert on the subject, mind—he’d spent his entire life up until six months earlier lamenting the ills of magic—but if Merlin had magic, it couldn’t all be bad.

It didn’t take him long to find the loose floorboard, which was thankfully in place. He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, unsure how he would cope if there was nothing within, but, as he’d expected, there were several items hidden beneath, and a roll of parchment lying atop it all, addressed to Arthur. With shaking hands, he retrieved and opened it.

 

_Arthur – I am sorry. You always said I was an idiot. I guess you were proven right. You will not come after me. And for once, listen to me, dollophead. It is for the best. I don’t know where they are taking me, but I will find my way to Ealdor if at all possible. Merlin_

 

Arthur read the words again and twice more after that, as if they would conjure an image of Merlin. They didn’t, but Arthur didn’t need the words for that. Merlin was a part of him, and his image was as clear to Arthur as it had been seven days before when they’d made love before Arthur left on his hunting trip. 

Still, Arthur very much needed the real Merlin.

Until then, nothing would be right.

He carefully rolled the parchment and tucked it into his belt, making sure that his jacket covered it as he walked out into the main chamber. Gaius was awake, sitting at the table, looking at him sadly. Arthur had no idea what to say. The Court Physician had to know what had been going on between Merlin and him, but he’d never asked, and the time for revelations wasn’t at hand. 

“How are you feeling, Gaius?” Arthur asked, not having seen him since he’d been ill.

“Physically, I am doing better than I was, Sire,” Gaius said, his voice hoarse from illness and disuse, “but waking up to Merlin being herded in here as if he were a common criminal has done little to help.” His labored breathing was testament to his words.

Arthur nodded, thinking that it must have been quite the shock for Gaius. Merlin, while not the Court Physician’s son, was as good as, and witnessing his ward being treated as a criminal must have been traumatic. Just the mere thought was very nearly Arthur’s undoing, so as he watched Gaius catching his breath and looking at him again, Arthur renewed his commitment to getting Merlin back.

“Merlin must have known you would come looking, Arthur. He fought to go in there and leave you something. Did you find it?” Gaius asked, his voice cutting out as he began another coughing fit.

Arthur sat down beside Gaius and handed him a cup of water. “Yes, but what do you mean he fought to go in there?” he asked as he crinkled his forehead in worry. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he needed to. He took the cup from Gaius a few seconds later and watched as the physician walked over to his bed and sat down on it. He looked exhausted. If Merlin were here he could help him. The thought made Arthur angry. So many lives were affected by Merlin’s absence.

“He had two guards, one on either arm, Sire,” Gaius said, his voice now almost completely gone. He cleared his throat before continuing. “He told them to please let him go get a coat to wear because he was cold. They said no, but he managed to get free of them long enough to run to his room and hide whatever it was that you found. For his efforts, he got a rather nasty blow to the back of the head.”

Horrified at what he’d heard, Arthur stood, but made no move to leave as he watched Gaius close his eyes and take several breaths. It must have cost him much to say what he had, both physically and emotionally. “Was it bad?” he asked, feeling foolish as soon as the words left his mouth. “Of course it was. I can’t believe my father did this to him. I’ll never forgive him, Gaius.”

“Arthur, I do not wish to worry you unnecessarily, my boy, but I tell you this because you need to know that whatever Merlin left you, he did so at great peril.” The familiar arched eyebrow served to emphasize the Court Physician’s words. “If anyone can get him back, Sire, you can. You’ve brought him back to us before and I have every confidence you will do the same now. I’ve watched you since you were a little boy and you have never given up on those that you care about, Arthur.” A hint of a smile appeared on Gaius’s face.

Once back in his room, Arthur was restless and didn’t know what to do. Gwen hadn’t returned, thus silence and stillness surrounded him like a cocoon that its inhabitant was growing too big for. Normally, when he was restless, Arthur would go work out his frustrations on the training grounds, but he was too distraught to do that. Nothing else to do, he thought he should probably compose a letter for Merlin. 

Gwen had mentioned that it might be a good idea to write his feelings down. Arthur hadn’t thought much of the idea at the time—Merlin was the one who composed his speeches and other correspondence because Arthur couldn’t be bothered with such things—but now he saw the merit in doing such. He had so many emotions running rampant in his mind and he thought he might very well burst with sadness if he didn’t get them out.

Thus he settled at his desk, his parchment and quill at the ready, composing in his mind what he’d write. Merlin might never get the letter, but Arthur would write it, regardless.

And he was going to be tactful, which he often wasn’t when berating Merlin, though he most definitely planned to berate him in the letter. The idiot had got himself caught and banished, after all, so Arthur thought himself justified.

 

 

_Merlin,_

_How is it that I fell in love with a complete idiot? I knew that first day when you were insolent with me that you would be trouble. Of course, I was right. Have you ever heard of locking the door? How could you have been so stupid as to get caught? Did you even think before you acted? Oh, right, you never think. My god, Merlin, you have no idea what I am going through. I don’t know what to do. I am so angry with you, you have no idea. I should probably be happy you weren’t hanged on the spot, but had you not been so careless, then you would be by my side at this very moment, thus it is difficult to take consolation in the fact that you are alive somewhere that is not here with me. As angry with you as I am, though, and I am angrier with you than I have ever been, I do love you, idiot. Not that it matters now._

_Arthur_

 

After setting down his quill, Arthur read over what he’d written, and couldn’t help the sardonic smile as he admitted to himself that he’d failed spectacularly on the “being tactful” part. He pondered discarding his attempt and starting over but decided to keep it as is—he’d written what he was feeling, and wasn’t that what Gwen had told him he should do?

After he rolled up the letter, tied it, and set it aside, Arthur solemnly picked up Merlin’s kerchief that was on the edge of his desk and studied it for several seconds before setting it back down. He had no intention of moving it again until Merlin came back for it.

Later that night, as Arthur was devising a plan to sneak into Morgana’s room (Gwen hadn’t had any luck in getting Arthur any closer, but she and Leon had made progress in _other areas_ ), there was a knock at his door. 

It was his father, who looked worried, which took some doing as Uther Pendragon didn’t want anyone to think that anything ruffled him.

“Father,” Arthur said tersely, his overwhelming curiosity as to the nature of this unexpected visit winning out over his fervent wish to slam the door in the man’s face.

“Morgana is in a state, Arthur. She is calling out for Merlin. It’s most certainly due to her being out of her mind with fever, but perhaps if you go see her it will help calm her.”

”Let’s go,” Arthur said without a moment’s hesitation.

He hurriedly followed his father to Morgana’s room and, once inside, could immediately sense that she was in pain. Her eyes were open, however, so at least she seemed conscious. That was something, but she was staring at the ceiling and didn’t turn to look at him, which was disconcerting. Arthur sat beside her bed and took one of her hands in his. At least it was warm, and not cold, as it would be if she were dead.

Their father must have deemed the situation to his liking because he said something about checking on Gaius as he walked to the door, but not before he gave his son a strange look.

It unsettled Arthur—he’d thought his father wouldn’t dare leave him and Morgana alone—but the look was almost one of pity or sadness. It momentarily had Arthur wondering if his father wasn’t leaving on purpose to give Morgana and him a chance to talk, but that made no sense. Arthur did his best to dismiss the thought as his father closed the door behind him.

As soon as their father was out of the room Morgana turned and looked at Arthur, her face much paler than usual. “You must get Merlin back here, Arthur,” she said as she latched on to his hand as if it were her only connection to reality.

“I know, Morgana. I’m working on it,” Arthur said as he took a shaky breath and felt her forehead, which was much too warm, “but I don’t know where he is. As soon as I find out I will go for him. He belongs here with us.”

Morgana’s breathing was shallow and raspy. She shook her head. “No, Arthur, you don’t understand. Merlin has been…” she sighed. “You know I’ve been ill, but several days ago, not long before you left on your hunting trip, I began having severe pains and losing consciousness. Merlin brought me out of it with his magic. He has been treating me since.”

Arthur slowly nodded. It was as he’d thought, but to hear what exactly Merlin had been doing made Arthur both exceedingly proud of the man he loved and profoundly enraged at his father. The King had sent away the person who was responsible for keeping his pride and joy alive, and when he found out what Merlin had actually been doing, Arthur wanted to be present—it was sure to be a spectacle for the ages.

But why hadn’t Merlin told _him_? Why had he kept this secret? “Merlin was helping you and no one thought to tell me?” he asked, somewhat hurt.

Not that it would have mattered had he been told. Even if Arthur knew that Merlin was using his magic to cure Morgana, there was little he could have done to prevent Merlin’s banishment. Arthur had been on a hunt and his father hadn’t known what the magic was being used for.

“Merlin wanted to tell you before you left, Arthur, but I begged him not to,” Morgana said as she opened her eyes and looked at Arthur in that piercing way that only she could. “I know how much you dislike him using his magic within the castle’s walls for fear that Father might find out. Merlin was risking his life for me and I felt guilty. I couldn’t bear to have you upset with him. I begged him not to use magic on me, but he said it was worth the risk if it saved my life. Please don’t be cross with him, Arthur,” she said softly before grimacing. “The pain is coming back,” she whispered as she closed her eyes. “I need sleep. Could you please send Gwen in?”

After retrieving Gwen and updating her on the latest, Arthur wanted to go to his father and explain everything so they could send for Merlin straight away, but his father had already retired for the night. And as much as Arthur didn’t care if he interrupted the King, he knew what he had to say was important; he needed his father’s complete attention. Thus, he reluctantly decided to wait until the following day when they were both rested, and when it was light out—no one would be able to do anything in the dark of night.

Arthur thought about going to bed—it had been a long day, one that had left him emotionally drained—but he was too sad to sleep, thus he thought that he’d write another letter to Merlin since he now had more information to pass on.

Merlin wasn’t yet in Ealdor, but there was an envoy leaving Camelot the following day and they would be passing through Merlin’s village within the next two days. If there was even the slightest possibility that he could speak to Merlin, if only through these two letters, he would take it.


	2. Part Two

Even though he wasn’t far from his mother’s house—he could see the ancient caves that surrounded Ealdor on the opposite side—Merlin might as well have been back in Camelot for all the good his legs were. After walking for what seemed like hours since he’d begun again at first light, he had finally reached his breaking point and collapsed against a large birch. 

Fortunately, he was shielded by a canopy of trees from the snow flurries that had begun to fall, and he was kept company by a chorus of chirping birds and various other animals that called the woods surrounding Ealdor home. He leant his head back against the bark and closed his eyes, hoping that the familiar sounds of nature could sooth his aching mind and body.

He couldn’t be sure because the pain was making it difficult to think straight, but Merlin thought it had been a day or two since he’d had any substantial food. His magic was weak and hadn’t been its usual help in procuring either food or fire. He’d found water the previous day and had had his fill, but now he was again parched. He had slept fitfully during the night, hallucinations haunting his intermittent rest.

If he could only get to his mother’s house, she would take care of him and he could put the painful journey he’d had from Camelot behind him.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be so easy to forget the people he had left behind after his banishment.

The thought of never seeing Gwen and Morgana saddened Merlin; the two of them had become an important part of his life and he’d come to genuinely care for them. Morgana’s dry wit and biting satirical quips, as well as Gwen’s sweetness, wise counsel, and inability to say anything without a dearth of words would be missed. But it was the thought of never seeing or talking to Arthur again that was the most difficult aspect of Merlin’s banishment to accept. He had already shed so many tears since that fateful day that he wondered if he had any left.

But he didn’t have time for such emotion; he needed to pull himself together and get home. No matter how much he wished it weren’t so, Arthur was in his past. Merlin would never see him again because he had messed up.

Yet, as much as it had cost him, Merlin couldn’t be sorry for what he’d been doing when he had been caught. Morgana had been ill and he had been helping keep her well with his magic.

He had used magic without detection many times before, which had probably given him a false sense of comfort, but he had still also known the risks and so understood the ramifications when caught in the act by Uther. It was just his luck that the _King_ would be the one to find him doing magic.

He had, of course, tried telling Arthur’s father what he was doing, but the King hadn’t been interested in words from a sorcerer, no matter how important they were. Merlin had also tried telling the guards, but for his efforts he had one broken arm while his other arm was badly bruised, a roughed up torso, cuts and bruises, and a few fractured ribs. And now his legs were cramping from the lack of water.

At least the guards had left him, so Merlin didn’t have to worry about further injuries from them.

What a fine mess he had got himself in. He was alone and without Arthur. He supposed that one day he’d accept what he knew was to be his future, but knowing and accepting were about as far from one another as the letters A and X, and Merlin wasn’t sure he’d ever accept that he and Arthur would never see one another again.

One thing he did accept was the small gift he’d been given—he was fortunate to be alive.

That the King had agreed to Leon’s suggestion to let him live was still a shock. It was so very uncharacteristic of Arthur's father, but Merlin wondered if Uther knew about his son and his son’s servant being lovers. Merlin and Arthur had been careful, but if Arthur’s father did know, he would have realised that if he killed his son’s lover, Arthur would never forgive him.

Whatever the reason, Merlin was thankful, even if the sorry state of him at the moment left much to be desired. Perhaps he would be better off dead.

But no, that was his hunger and pain speaking. He wanted to live. Yes, he was beyond heartbroken at losing Arthur, but he had a future in Ealdor that he needed to think about. He knew his mother could use his help, so he would do his best to help her and make a new life for himself. It wouldn’t be easy, but when had anything ever been easy for him?

Suddenly, a man’s voice called out, “Who goes there?”

Merlin opened his eyes and looked around him but couldn’t see anyone. “Help,” he cried out, his feeble voice all he could manage before the world around him went dark.

When he next woke, he was on a bed, and his mother was seated on the edge, wiping his forehead with a wet cloth. It was a welcome feeling as he felt as if he were on fire. “Hurts,” he managed to say between gritted teeth. He hadn’t hurt nearly this bad during his journey.

“Yes, dear, you are quite fortunate your injuries were not worse. You are also fortunate that Mr Simmons' son just happens to be visiting for the next few weeks. He is the one who found you. He is learned in the sciences and knows much about the human anatomy. He examined you and says you will recover, but it will take time.”

“How long have I been here?” he asked, feeling completely lost, but as he took in the room he was heartened to see the familiar knickknacks his mother kept around the house: the small dragon carved out of beech wood that perched atop the hearth, the flower and grass art that Merlin had given his mother when he was a small boy, a pair of small winter boots that he’d worn as a toddler, and the quilt his grandmother had given his mother when she was born.

“Four days, love. You’ve been in and out of consciousness,” she said, rewetting the cloth and looking behind her before turning back towards her son. She leant in so she could whisper in his ear. “It seems your magic reserves have been drastically reduced. It will take time for them to replenish.”

It was no less than Merlin had expected. He sighed unhappily. There hadn’t been many times in his life when he’d been without his magic, but each time had been taxing for both him and his mother.

As a toddler he had moved the kitchen table across the room and, for his efforts, had been without magic for three days. Another time he had felled a tree and nearly killed his neighbor, Old Man Simmons. That had cost him a week’s worth of magic.

Merlin wanted to turn away and forget about everything. He had lost his home, his lover, and now his magic. Yes, he knew his magic would return, but life seemed to be heaping a large helping of manure his way and he didn’t at all appreciate it. He closed his eyes and wished he could fall asleep. It was easier to be asleep and not think about everything that had been and was still happening.

“If you are feeling up to it, Merlin, we need to give you a bath later. I have been sponging you, but it’s time for a proper bath, I think,” said his mother, the tiniest hint of humour evident.

Merlin frowned. He wasn’t feeling up to doing anything, but he knew how dirty he must be; he'd been outside in the elements for far too long, and he could feel the grime. A bath would be nice. For a moment, he smiled at the memory of sitting in Arthur’s lap as the other man washed his arms and chest. “Yeah, okay.”

The next morning when he awoke, Merlin immediately felt his magic. It remained weak; he wouldn't be able to do much, but needed to see what he _could_ do. For starters, he would get out of bed. He knew from having a bath the previous night that, while he could walk—his legs were pretty much back to normal, with little to no pain—he was still quite weak, so he knew to take it slowly.

The first thing he did after finding his balance (which might have taken longer than he would admit to) was to look over towards the window seat where the letters his mother had set on the chair were.

They were from Arthur. Merlin smiled, just thinking about Arthur writing him.

He’d wanted to read them the night before, as soon as his mother had told him about them, but his mother had put her foot down and said Merlin needed to get his rest and that he could read them when he woke. 

Merlin had sulked, and he’d told his mother that the letters might contain something important, but she had given him that knowing, motherly look and shook her head before telling him that there was nothing in them that couldn’t wait until the following morning.

Curious as to how she knew that, Merlin had meant to ask, but it was then that whatever he had been given for the pain had begun to work, and he had fallen asleep.

He couldn’t wait to see what words would greet him. No doubt there would be censure; it wouldn’t be a letter from Arthur without such.

After taking a few tentative steps and feeling confident that he would be strong enough to get from the bed to the window seat, he decided to dress—his clean clothes were folded neatly beside the bed.

It took him longer than usual to dress as his broken arm and fractured ribs hadn’t healed much, but he was tired of lying beneath the covers with nothing but his breeches on, so he did as well as he could. Thank goodness he had his magic back, even though it was still weak.

His mother was nowhere to be seen, but Merlin guessed she had gone out and was tending the garden or doing one of a hundred other things she did day-to-day.

He looked over at the table and saw a bowl and spoon and a pot of something his mother must have prepared earlier. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to eat to build his strength. Once he was done with that he settled on the window seat, watching the crows that were flying around, no doubt looking for corn.

He opened the window to allow the fresh breeze to enter. The wind blowing through his hair and the cool air on his face reminded him of so many other days in his past spent in this very spot. The thought made him smile as a memory of a day many years past when he and Will had been feeding corn to the crows resurfaced.

They’d been having the time of their lives until Will’s mother had come running outside and shooed the crows away before giving her son and Merlin a stern talking to about how crows were the enemy and were not to be fed.

Merlin now understood the reason for Will’s mother being so upset, but he still loved those crows, even if he no longer fed them.

Retrieving the first letter, Merlin opened it and grinned to see the familiar handwriting. He briefly closed his eyes and could imagine Arthur sitting at his desk, quill in hand, wishing Merlin were there so he wouldn’t have to write (being the Prince must be so taxing, most especially when said prat had to actually write a letter himself). He grinned, anxious to read what _his_ prat had written.

The scolding he received in the letter only made him grin more.

The Prince might love tenderly in the dark of night, but during the light of day he held no prisoners, and Merlin had never been an exception. Merlin rolled his eyes at the thought as he read over Arthur’s words again, and soon he found himself frowning.

He fervently missed his irascible Arthur and was homesick for his adopted home of Camelot. He felt a deep longing for the life he had been forced to flee.

As much as he loved the small village he’d grown up in, Ealdor was no longer his home. That, of course, must have been why at that very moment a crow made its way inside and landed right in front of him—its beak turning in staccato movements as it looked around, possibly wondering who the strange creature before it was.

Merlin chuckled at the timing. How was it that when he was feeling like he wanted to leave Ealdor forever, he was reminded why he loved it so very much?

 

 

Perhaps Ealdor was no longer Merlin’s home, but the very nature that he’d always felt a oneness with would always be with him wherever he was.

Refocusing his attention on the letter, Merlin knew he needed to explain (dare he say defend?) himself, but he couldn’t do so until he felt stronger. As it was, he felt himself stiffening up; his back was beginning to hurt and he felt a headache coming on.

He probably should have stayed in bed, which his mother would no doubt remind him of, but Merlin had never been one to do as he should. He was stubborn, a fact Arthur reminded him about daily (which was quite funny coming from someone as obstinate as Arthur).

It took some doing but Merlin managed to get himself back in the bed. He had just settled down when his mother entered the small house, dirt on her smiling face as she looked at him, her frown turning into a smile. It did wonders for Merlin’s broken heart.

“I see you've been reading the letters,” she said as she removed the scarf from her head. After redoing the bun in her hair, she put the scarf back on and cleaned her hands on her apron as she made her way to the table to begin preparing lunch. “I confess to being curious about them, Merlin. Perhaps now that you are doing better you will enlighten me as to why you were banished and why Prince Arthur has been sending you letters,” she added as she walked over to the kitchen and removed a large pot from where it hung on the wall.

Merlin had wondered when his mother would ask, and he himself was curious. If there had been only one, he would think it was only because of Arthur missing him, but as there were more, he was worried that it had to do with Morgana.

“Has anyone come for me to take me back to Camelot?” he asked, hopeful. Someone from Camelot had to have brought the letters, and if they were about Morgana, and if she had shared with the others what he had been doing for her, Merlin couldn’t imagine that he’d be allowed to stay away for long. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he was all about wishful thinking if it could get him back to Camelot, and when he saw the shocked expression on his mother’s face, he felt hope rising.

“Sir Leon arrived the day after you did. He had orders to take you back, but the Simmons boy said you were in no condition to travel. Sir Leon asked how long it would be before you could travel. The Simmons boy didn’t know how long it would be. A day later another letter was delivered, and again they asked the Simmons boy if you could return to Camelot. He said he didn’t care if it was the King himself who had come for you, you weren’t leaving until you were able to travel without harm coming to you.”

Merlin understood, but he needed to get back to Camelot to help Morgana. He also needed to read the other letters to see what they said, but he was exhausted after reading only the one. He looked longingly at them. He needed to explain everything to his mother, but at the moment he didn’t have the energy to speak, much less explain that he had been caught doing magic by the _King of Camelot_. “I need to read them,” he said at the same time as he let out a huge yawn.

“Would you like me to read them to you? I know you’d rather read them yourself, but I can tell you overexerted yourself,” his mother said, a hint of censure on her face and in her voice.

As much as Merlin wanted to wait until he could read them himself, he hadn’t the luxury of time. And this was his mother. It wasn’t as if she was someone he didn’t know. He nodded and scooted over in the small bed so his mother could sit beside him. It was a tight squeeze but Merlin wouldn’t ask for her to sit in the chair beside the bed for all the money in the world. “Thanks, Mum,” he said as he put his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Then it’s a good thing you shan’t have to find out for a very long while yet, love,” she said warmly as she glanced down at the letter in her hand. “Ready?”

“Yes,” was Merlin’s whispered reply as he remembered how lost and alone he’d felt when she had been so close to death because of Nimueh. His mother had always been there for him and he would need her always, no matter how old he was. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was far away from Arthur, and the thought of that was almost too much for him to bear, but at least he had his mother.

His attention switched back to her as she began to read out loud.

 

_Merlin,_

_Your not being here is a loss felt by us all. You should hear the people in the lower town; they are beside themselves with grief that you have been banished. There is not a one of them who doesn’t want to see you returned. You are beloved by them all. By us all. Well, with the exception of my father, that is. I doubt he will ever like you, but he doesn’t have to like you to know that you are needed here. He does not yet know that, but I am hopeful Morgana can tell him. I know that you were helping her, but as Father knows about you and me (don’t ask me how, but he does), nothing I say to him about what Morgana tells me will matter to him. As soon as I finish writing this letter I will go speak to him and hopefully Morgana can straighten this out as well. Once he knows the truth, I am certain you will be allowed to return and help Morgana return to health. And of course, you can return to me._

_Yours,  
Arthur_

 

“Yours, Arthur?” Merlin’s mother repeated, the question in her voice needing no clarification.

Merlin, his eyes still closed, smiled. Not at his mother’s question, but at the words in the letter. They were a far cry from the biting words of the first letter. To be honest, they were a far cry from the way Arthur _ever_ talked to him. It was, Merlin admitted to himself, nice. He’d always known Arthur had it in him to be sweet and endearing. 

His mother clearing her throat brought Merlin back and reminded him that she had just asked him an important question about why Arthur had signed the letter the way he had.

Merlin would rather not answer at the moment as he wanted to say much more than he thought his stamina would allow, but as his mother was reading the letters to him, she was of course going to be curious, and Merlin didn’t want to keep this bit of news from her.

A deep breath later and a silent hope that his mother wouldn’t berate him for his foolishness, he decided he could put it off no longer. “Arthur and I have been more than master and servant for almost a year, Mum. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did and I wouldn’t change a thing.” He looked up into his mother’s eyes, hoping to see acceptance. “Please tell me you’re not disappointed in me,” he pleaded. What his mother thought was important.

“Oh, Merlin, do you honestly think I wouldn’t approve? I remember the way he looked at you and treated you when the two of you were here last year. I could have never imagined then that this is where that would lead, but I am not surprised. I do worry because one day he will be king and where will that leave you? But as long as you are happy, my son, I am happy.”

When she kissed Merlin’s head, he smiled, feeling safe and loved. He should have realised she’d not be cross with him. “Next one?” he asked as he pointed to the next parchment.

 

_Merlin,_

_I know you have yet to receive my first two letters, but father has finally talked to Morgana and she told him what you have been doing for her. He wants you back here immediately. We do not know where you are, but I hope you are in Ealdor. Father has dispatched men to get you and bring you back. Soon you will be back where you belong. I wish it were under better circumstances, but whatever the reason, you are coming back to me._

_Yours always,  
Arthur_

 

The thought made Merlin grin. He was going back to Arthur. Or at least that is what Arthur told him and that is what he was holding on to. 

“Please don’t tell Arthur you read these to me, Mum. If he even thought someone else read these…” Merlin looked at his mother. “He can be a prat, but I love him and I don’t want him to stop writing to me like this.” Merlin knew he didn’t need to explain further when his mother squeezed his shoulder, although he did have to try hard not to grimace when his arm protested the not-so-gentle touch. 

“Your Arthur’s secret is safe with me, love.”

“Thanks, Mum,” he said, wishing more than anything that Arthur were here with him as he looked at the remaining letters. He loved how his mum said _his Arthur_ , even as it reminded him of what he’d left behind in Camelot.

His mother and Arthur made Merlin feel loved, accepted, and protected, and he needed both of them in his life. And so her acceptance of whom he loved heartened him, even as the thought hurt because for the first time in almost a year, Arthur wasn’t with him. “Next one?” he said again quietly, not wanting to think about the emptiness he felt.

 

_Merlin,_

 _Morgana is getting worse. I do not know if she can make it through the week. Gaius says you are her only hope. Please try to come. I am so sorry you are hurt, and I don’t want you to do anything to further endanger yourself, but she’s Morgana, Merlin. I can’t lose her. I know you understand.”_

_Yours forever,  
Arthur_

_Postscriptum: It has just occurred to me that if you are badly injured, someone else might have to read these letters to you. I hope it is your mother. I cannot bear the thought of some other person reading letters from me to you, thinking this is the way I am in everyday life. Perish the thought._

 

Merlin, his mood having gone down quickly after hearing his mother reading Arthur’s dire words regarding Morgana, couldn’t help the small laugh. “I wondered how long it would take him to think about that. I am guessing that his next letter will be formal and all business. Arthur is many things, Mum: wonderful and loving among them, but he guards himself and won’t allow others to see what I see on a daily basis.”

“Yes, well, your father was the same,” his mother said, a hint of disapproval in her voice. “He had the biggest heart, but he never showed it to anyone other than me… and Gaius, that is. He loved that man like a father.”

“Hm,” Merlin said, but he wanted to say more. “How did you and my father know Gaius?” He had asked her twice before over the past two years, but both times they’d been interrupted, and Merlin had got the impression that his mother hadn’t wanted to speak about Gaius. He hoped that maybe this time she would tell him.

“Your grandfather, my father, who died before you were born, was Gaius’s brother. Gaius was what they call the black sheep of the family. He moved off long before you were born. His magic deemed him a freak to his family and village, and no one knew what to do with him. I have always felt badly for how my father and his family treated him. That is why I sent you to him, my love. I knew he was the only one who could help you.”

Merlin let what his mother told him sink in. It all made sense, and it also made him feel sad for the man who had helped him find his way. “He has, Mum, more than you know. I consider Gaius like a father, and he has treated me as he would his very own son. I am sure of it.” Merlin smiled as he thought of the man who had taken him in almost two years ago. Merlin couldn’t wait to see him again and thank him for all he had done. Gaius might have been a black sheep to someone else, but to Merlin he represented all that was good in the world.

“I’m glad of that,” his mother said as she closed the parchment. “I have always worried about him, but I no longer do because now he has you, and though it might take some time, I do think you will return to Gaius and Camelot. Speaking of, why don’t you tell me what happened. Banishment is no small matter and this mother is quite curious about what her son did to necessitate such a punishment. I can guess from the letters Arthur has written you, but I’d rather hear it from you,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face.

“Yeah, okay,” Merlin said, knowing he could no longer put it off. “But can you help me lie down first? My ribs are starting to hurt.”

She carefully helped him lie down, covering him with the quilt Merlin had so loved as a child, before lying down beside him, her hand softly caressing his side in a comforting manner. Merlin had to stifle a sob to keep his emotions in check. He was missing Arthur terribly, and lying here beside his mother was so very reminiscent of all those nights when Merlin had been growing up, feeling alone. His mother would let him crawl into bed with her and she would wrap her arms around him protectively. It had been the safest Merlin had felt as a child. All these years later, he felt just the same, as if she was protecting him from the world. 

Merlin’s almost-sob hadn’t escaped his mother’s notice. She asked him if he was in pain and suggested that he should get some sleep and that the conversation could wait until morning, but he didn’t want to put it off.

“I’m not sure, but I think someone tried to poison Morgana,” he said as he remembered the strange woman who had come to Camelot and given Morgana a bracelet before leaving just as mysteriously as she’d arrived. “Gaius gave Morgana medicine and it seemed to be working, but then it stopped and she began having episodes where she lost consciousness. Gaius asked if I could do something to help her so I used my magic. With my help she stopped blacking out.”

He stopped when his mother gave him a disapproving look. “What?” he asked.

“Would this be one of the reasons your magic is almost non-existent now?” she asked, not unkindly but with that way she had that meant she was in full mother mode.

There was no way Merlin could answer his mother’s question truthfully. He knew that what he’d done for Morgana had sapped him of energy, but he’d felt perfectly fine when he had been banished. 

“Mum, I don’t want to go into detail about my time after I left Camelot, but it wasn’t fun. It is _that_ which caused my magic to be depleted. Really, Mum,” he said emphatically. He was well aware that his mother was on to him and knew he was being purposely evasive, but he also thought he knew her well enough to know that she would allow him his truth. Sometimes that was the best course of action and Merlin had always appreciated his mother for that.

When his mother said nothing further, Merlin continued. “The day Arthur's father caught me I’d been late getting to Morgana because I was tending to Gaius. By the time I reached her she’d lost consciousness. I gave her the normal infusion but it didn’t work. I was in the middle of giving her a second one when Uther walked in and saw me. Mum, I thought he was going to put a sword through me then and there.”

When his mother covered her mouth and looked shocked, he let out a shaky laugh. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d not live to see the following day. He was so very angry,” Merlin said, sharing a mournful look with his mother, both of them realising how close he had come to being sentenced to death.

“But why didn’t you tell Arthur what you were doing? I know I’ve discouraged you from doing so in the past, Merlin, but if there was ever a time to tell him, wouldn’t this have been it?”

Merlin didn’t have a good answer to that question because he had very nearly told Arthur, but, in the end, he just hadn’t the nerve to do so. “I didn’t want to put him in danger. Uther couldn’t find out that his son knew I had magic.” Merlin then coughed and grimaced when his ribs protested. “Maybe I should get some sleep,” he said, resigned to the fact that, as much as he wanted to continue, he couldn’t. 

When Merlin awoke it was the following morning, which was quite the shock to him, but he guessed his mother had given him something powerful to help with the pain. It must have helped. He felt much improved from the previous day, and his magic seemed to be much stronger, probably enough to begin the healing of his ribs and arms.

It took him longer than usual, but soon Merlin’s ribs and arms were feeling much less useless. He stopped after that. The other injuries could heal on their own.

He guessed his mother was out tending the garden again, and when he heard her humming through the open window, he sighed, a smile on his face.

Frustrated that he couldn’t help her, Merlin settled in the window seat to read the final letter. He also needed to write Arthur and tell him that he was finally well enough to travel. 

Merlin would be sad to leave his mother so soon after waking up, but he knew Morgana needed him, and he needed to see Arthur, to know that they really were going to be together again.

When he had been forced to leave he’d lost all hope, but now he felt such immense optimism for the future.

He retrieved the final parchment from the chair and carefully opened it.

 

_Merlin,_

 _I don’t understand. You have magic! Why can’t you do your eye thing and heal yourself? Gaius has improved and is trying his best to help Morgana but he is not you. He couldn’t do for Morgana what you did when I asked him to try. That is probably best. Just between you and me, he is getting on in years and I don’t know if he can still safely use his magic. So it’s down to you, Merlin. Sir Leon is away for the next couple of days, but once he returns he will be sent to Ealdor with orders to stay until you are able to travel. Father wanted to join him on his journey but thank all that is good in the world that I was able to dissuade him. He does want you to return to help Morgana and has assured me that no harm will come to you, but I will never trust him alone with you. He banished you. For that, I shall never forgive him. Do you know that he has yet to apologize? Not that I thought he would, mind, but I do wonder if he has it within him to do so. Somehow, I doubt it. Guinevere and Morgana have vowed to not speak to him until he does. Personally, I think what they’re doing to be childish; it isn’t as if my father has suddenly turned into a tyrant. Then again, I am not a girl, thus I do not know their whims, which I am quite happy about, thank you very much. If at all possible, will you write me a letter? Or have your mother write it for you? I need to read your words. It will not be the same as if you were with me, but they will give me strength. Merlin, right now I need strength. I need you._

_Love, Arthur_

 

Merlin re-read the words on the parchment and let out a little laugh. Arthur had signed it _Love, Arthur_. That prat was a softie at heart and Merlin couldn’t be happier about that.

After he had finished writing his letter to Arthur and was thinking about Morgana, hoping she was okay, he heard the door open. He figured it was his mother, getting ready to come in for a break. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he saw Arthur standing inside the doorway.

Was he seeing things? Merlin opened his mouth again, unable to speak for several seconds. “You said Leon would be coming,” Merlin said, only somewhat embarrassed when he realised his voice was shaking. He was actually looking at Arthur. The man he loved. The man he had thought he’d never see again.

Merlin blinked a few times as he thought back to that day almost a year earlier when he and Arthur had been in the armoury preparing for the day’s jousting tournament. It had been just another day—Merlin carefully securing Arthur’s armour—but unlike any other day, Arthur had stilled Merlin’s wrists, leant in, and kissed him.

It had been one of those perfect moments that Merlin had dreamt about but had never expected to happen, and he’d thought it would be a one off, but it hadn’t and Merlin and Arthur had spent every night since then together.

Until Arthur had left on his hunting trip.

Allowing the memory to fade away, Merlin began to tremble. He shook his head as he wiped away a tear, and then Arthur was by his side wiping the tears away for him, but he was looking at Merlin the same as he always had, as if his servant was an idiot.

Merlin closed his eyes. “Oh, Arthur,” he whispered before he wrapped his arms around the man he loved and hugged him for dear life. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said through his tears.

“Such a dramatist, Merlin. Did you really think I’d let you go without a fight?” Arthur asked as he slowly extricated himself from Merlin’s arms and stepped back. “If you thought that little of me then you never knew me.” He turned towards Merlin’s mother who was walking through the door, a handful of something in her arms. “Is he well enough to travel, Hunith? If he is, my half-sister needs him.”

Merlin heard his mother respond but wasn’t paying attention to what she or Arthur was saying. All he could think about was that he was looking at Arthur, but then he heard Arthur saying something about his father wanting to speak to Merlin, and that got his attention.

If he never saw Uther Pendragon again that would be fine with him, but as the King was Arthur’s father, Merlin knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing the man. “Your father wants to talk to me,” Merlin said rather flippantly, a smirk on his face. “That should be one for the ages.” He rolled his eyes as Arthur gave him a commiserating look.

“Merlin,” his mother admonished, looking as all mothers must when their children said something they weren’t happy with.

Merlin shook his head and shrugged as he looked back at Arthur. “Sorry, but he banished me for doing magic and now he wants me back to do more magic because it is his daughter who is ill. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t matter to him; he’d let them die.” He didn’t need to say anything else.

The following morning, with the go ahead of Old Man Simmons' son, and after a rather solemn, teary goodbye between Merlin and his mother, Arthur loaded Merlin into the wagon and packed him in tightly so the cold wind wouldn’t make him too uncomfortable.

Merlin felt silly as he sat in the wagon, unable to help prepare for their return journey to Camelot (he’d said he was more than able to ride up front with Arthur and help load some lighter things), but one thing he didn’t feel was unloved. Arthur was being as attentive as he always was when Merlin was ill or had had a rough day, and his mother continued to show him how fortunate he was to have her for his mum.

She had made his favourite cookies, which were next to him, ready to be eaten. And as if that weren’t enough, it seemed his mother had been hoping for a visit from him because she had knitted him two scarves, three pair of gloves, and four pair of socks. Merlin had seen her giving Arthur several scarves and had overheard him thanking her for the gloves. The thought made him grin thankfully. He was happy that his mother and Arthur got on as well as they did.

Now if only Arthur's father would come round and accept his son’s lover the same as Merlin’s Mother had accepted his. His grin turned into a laugh. He wouldn’t hold his breath for that one.

Arthur turned toward him and winked, and it was as if they were beginning anew all over again, but this time they wouldn’t have to go through that awkward stage of getting past the _I like you and I want you to like me, but you probably don’t so I won’t say anything._ “Thank you,” Merlin mouthed, and received a nod in reply.

“You can thank me by continuing to heal,” Arthur said as he brought another blanket and handed it to Merlin. “It looks as if it could snow. I hope not, but if it does I want you to be warm. It wouldn’t do to have you catch cold and die on me now that I’m so close to getting you back,” he said with another wink, and then he leant over the side of the wagon and pressed a quick kiss to Merlin’s chapped lips.

Merlin closed his eyes as Arthur stepped down and continued loading the wagon. His heart was full. When he reopened them he watched Arthur walk over to his mother and say a few words to her before kissing her on the cheek. Then he turned back and walked to his horse. climbed on, and looked back at Merlin, a smile on his face.

“Are you ready?” he asked as he retrieved the reins.

Merlin didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded before he turned and looked at his mother, who was looking at him with such love. “Thank you, Mum,” he managed to say.

“I love you, Merlin. Never forget that, and Arthur,” she said, turning to look at him, “take good care of my boy.” Then she covered her mouth with her hand and watched as Merlin and Arthur began their trek back to Camelot.


	3. Part Three

When Arthur opened his eyes, it was to see blue eyes studying him. He reached out his hand and ran it down the side of Merlin’s face, grinning when Merlin closed his eyes and leant in to the touch. Arthur had thought he’d never see Merlin again, and the reality that he was beside him was surreal.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly as he leant in to press a kiss to Merlin’s temple. “You had a fever last night,” he added, wondering if he’d made a mistake by leaving Ealdor too soon.

“I’ve been better, but I’ll be fine,” Merlin replied, repositioning himself so he was closer to Arthur. “The Simmons boy and my mother took excellent care of me and now that you’re here with me, I know you will continue doing the same.” Merlin then leant in and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips.

The familiar taste of Merlin was bliss and Arthur couldn’t get enough of those lovely lips, but he pulled back, knowing that Merlin was in no condition to do anything more than light kissing. He looked down at Merlin, whose eyes were shut with a look of pure contentment on his face, and wondered if Merlin knew how much he was loved. “I’m curious. did the Simmons boy know you have magic?” Arthur asked, unable to ignore his need to know.

“He does now,” Merlin said with a small laugh. “Mum didn’t want to tell him, but I was so ill that she had little choice,” he added as he ran his hand down Arthur’s jawline.

“He seemed okay with it?” Arthur asked, curious how others reacted to finding out someone in their midst had magic. 

Admittedly, he hadn’t reacted at all well when he’d realised Merlin had magic, and he hoped others were a bit more understanding. Merlin didn’t deserve to be ridiculed or looked down upon for having a gift that should be respected and appreciated.

Merlin shrugged. “He treated me; that’s all I can tell you. But I’d guess he was glad to see me leave.” Merlin sighed and looked troubled. “As much as I love my mum, I don’t belong there anymore, Arthur.”

Indeed not, Arthur thought with a satisfied grin. He was sad for Merlin’s mother, of course, but the fact that Merlin was returning to Camelot with him made him giddy. “You belong in Camelot.”

Merlin thought the same. Hearing Arthur saying such made him happy, but it also worried him. “I hope you’re right, Arthur, but I don’t want to cause you any more problems with your father. You are his heir; he can’t change that, can he? I mean, he wouldn’t give it to Morgana, would he?” At that, Merlin opened his eyes. “Would he?” he asked seriously, looking worried.

Arthur would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered the same; his father had allowed Merlin to return, and he promised that Merlin wouldn’t be in danger, but he hadn’t said anything about Arthur remaining the heir. 

Arthur was somewhat worried, but he looked at Merlin, studying his face and remembering the first time they had kissed, the first time they had made love, the first time they had said they loved each other, and the feeling that went through him when he’d thought he would never see Merlin again. He realised that he couldn’t care less about being King of Camelot. If that came to pass, so be it, but that was still to come. Merlin was his present and future, and that was more than enough for Arthur.

Once Merlin was sleeping soundly, the light snores assuring Arthur that all was again right with the world, he sat up and retrieved his bag, where the letter Merlin had written him was. Arthur had wanted to read it before they left Ealdor, but Merlin had asked him to wait, so he had.

Sitting next to the fire, he unrolled the parchment and grinned at the untidy scrawl.

 

_Arthur,_

_You asked for a letter from me, so here it is. Sorry for the messiness—okay, the more than usual messiness—but I don’t have the energy to go sit at the table to write this so this is what you get. Oh, and have you heard of paragraphs? Yes, well, I am going to use them. Imagine me with a big grin on my face as I write this._

_Had I known I would fall in love with the prat Prince of Camelot I’d probably never have come to Camelot, which would have been a true pity. For all your faults (and there are many), you put up with me and I put up with you. Does that answer the question of why you fell in love with me? If not, then perhaps it was my effervescent personality. As to why I fell in love with you, it definitely isn’t your ability to lock doors. Who was it that got so caught up in sucking me off that they didn’t secure the door behind them, thus not hearing when it opened? Oh, right, that would be you. I’m sure Morgana will never get that image out of her mind._

_From my first day in Camelot, the people of the lower town have embraced me as one of them. That they are supporting me now is a very welcome boost to my broken spirit._

_Your father… well, I think you know exactly what I think of him, so the less said the better. If he does allow me to return to Camelot, my opinion of him will go up a small bit, but don’t you dare ask me to ever call him _Father_._

_Your half-sister is the reason I didn’t leave Camelot soon after I arrived. There is much about her that you are unaware of, but what you need to know is that Morgana is the best of your family, Arthur. I would do what I did for her and risk being caught a million times more. She is worth it, but I know that you are aware of that. Remember that, always._

_Yes, Gaius is getting on in years, but he has saved my life more than once. I will trust him always._

_My “eye-thing?” Seriously, Arthur? Why didn’t I think of that whilst I was unable to access my magic because I had been left in the woods malnourished and injured?_

_It will be good to see Sir Leon, but I confess to being surprised and disappointed that you aren’t the one coming for me, though the fact that you talked your father out of coming makes up for that. I shudder to think of returning to Camelot with him for company._

_Oh, Arthur, where is your inner-girl? I know it is in there somewhere._

_I hope I have answered all of your questions, and I hope with all of my heart that I will see you again because the thought of not doing so is unthinkable, Arthur._

_Love, Love, Love, and Love Forever,_

_Your Merlin_

 

Arthur rolled the parchment and tied it as he looked over at Merlin. It was still almost impossible to believe that he was only a metre away when only the day before Arthur had feared he’d never see him again.

Standing and stretching, he decided he should get some sleep so that he, Merlin, and the other knights that had joined them could start out at first light. He tucked the letter in his jacket pocket and joined Merlin, who made the same sweet noise he always did when Arthur climbed into bed each night and wrapped his arms around him. It was the perfect way to begin the rest of his life with the man he loved.

As Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent beside him, he vowed to never again leave Camelot without Merlin, because nothing good ever happened when they were apart.

**~Epilogue~**

Some weeks later, as Arthur slipped in behind Merlin in the bath (and grinned when Merlin wiggled his bottom as he settled into his lap), he thought that things in Camelot were, while not exactly peaceful, better than they’d been before Merlin’s banishment.

Merlin was almost back to normal, which meant he was once again the worst servant ever and the clumsiest person to ever walk the earth, and Morgana was on the mend (it seemed she had been cursed by a bracelet given to her by a witch called Morgause).

“How’s Morgana?” Merlin asked as Arthur’s legs entangled with his and as his arms pulled him in so he was pressed flush against Arthur’s chest. He let out a contented sigh.

Such a sweet sound from Merlin would never get old and Arthur wanted to hear more of those. It had been a month since they’d done more than kiss and Arthur wasn’t sure he could wait another moment. Merlin‘s still wiggling bottom seemed to indicate that he felt the same. 

Deciding it was time to speed things up, Arthur latched on to the sensitive spot just behind Merlin’s right ear with his lips before he began massaging his shoulders. He had missed this routine of theirs that often began in the bath. “I think she’s better. She’s still not got her strength back, much like you, but Gaius says she’ll be back to her old self in a few weeks.”

He then leant down and attacked Merlin’s lovely jawline. For his efforts he received the most delicious sounds, and he might have heard “want you in me,” which of course had Arthur’s cock rising to the occasion. Merlin moaned when he felt the movement behind him.

Merlin again wiggled his bottom, but this time slowly. “Don’t stop, Arthur. I am well aware that I’m not at full strength, but I am strong enough to let you put that lovely cock of yours in my arse,” and he emphasized his words when he ground into Arthur’s lap and turned his head to meet Arthur in a kiss.

“I have no intention of stopping,” and Arthur punctuated this statement with a kiss to Merlin’s pale, inviting neck. “Ready?” he asked, thinking that Merlin had better say yes, and when Merlin moaned, that was all the invitation Arthur needed. “I want you to ride me like you did that first night,” he said, remembering their first night together.

It had been Merlin’s first time and he’d been somewhat hesitant, so Arthur had suggested that it might be easier if Merlin rode him.

It wasn’t their favorite position, nor was it the most satisfying, but it would be the easiest on Merlin’s still-healing body.

Arthur watched with a greedy smile as Merlin turned towards him and anchored himself by grabbing hold of the edge of the bath with both hands, positioning himself, and beginning to sink down onto Arthur’s cock. 

It was a feeling Arthur would never tire of. He threw his head back. “So good, Merlin. I love being inside you.” He closed his eyes and enjoyed the slow burn as Merlin wiggled around for several seconds before pulling up and then sinking down again. Merlin’s breath was shallow and he was making the most adorable noises. Arthur wasn’t sure if they were magic words or words at all.

“Let me see your eyes, Merlin,” Arthur managed to say before he gasped when he felt the beginnings of his orgasm building. It was much too soon, but he had waited so very long for this. Who could blame him?

Merlin opened his eyes and leant in to kiss Arthur, his eyes flashing gold as he muttered words that were lost in the kiss.

Different coloured butterflies greeted them as the beautiful creatures fluttered their wings around them for several seconds before they flew out the open window behind Arthur’s desk.

Arthur looked around in awe and was truly humbled, which admittedly wasn’t easy for him, someone who had been accustomed to getting pretty much anything he wanted. 

Until Merlin, that is.

He’d had to wait for Merlin, and then he’d nearly lost him. Now that he had him back he would never again take him for granted. 

He reluctantly pulled back from the kiss and smiled as Merlin once again sank down onto his cock. Arthur was so close, but he wanted to delay his orgasm as long as possible—he wasn’t ready for this to be over. “I love you, Merlin,” he whispered, and after a few more thrusts, Arthur anchored himself against the edge of the bath as well as he could and used his other hand to cup Merlin’s cock. He gave it a few light squeezes before speeding up his movements to match the pulses of electricity that were coursing through his own body with such intensity that Arthur wasn’t sure he could stand it.

“And I love you, clotpole,” groaned Merlin as he came, hard, spurting his come in the water and onto Arthur’s hand, chest, and chin.

Once he was done he leant in, kissing his come from Arthur’s chin, and lapping up some of what was on his chest.

The combination of all the sensations sent Arthur reeling. He thought he might be screaming his release as he filled Merlin and gasped in ecstasy.

Merlin collapsed on Arthur’s chest and one of Arthur’s tired arms came to rest on his back. “I think there is no way we are going to get clean in this bath water now, Merlin, but what say you about us relocating to the bed? I need to take proper care of you, wouldn’t you agree?” Arthur smirked. And with that, he helped Merlin off of his lap and they both stood.

Arthur’s chest was still covered in come and he felt weak in the knees, but he was sated and knew there was more to follow. He reached out his hand and felt such love when Merlin placed his hand in his. He leant in to kiss Merlin, but the door to his room opened at that very moment and his father stepped in.

Arthur froze.

Merlin froze.

“Have you ever heard of a lock, Arthur?” Merlin whispered, a look of horror on his face as he stared into the shocked eyes of Uther Pendragon. 

“Fa-father,” Arthur said, completely flabbergasted. He had been in some awkward situations in his life, but nothing came close to this.

“Arthur,” his father said as he mercifully turned away and cleared his throat. “I need to see the two of you in the Council Chambers as soon as you are properly dressed,” then he left and it was as though he’d never been there.

“Did that just happen?” Arthur let out a nervous laugh. To say he was mortified was a vast understatement.

Not that Arthur was ashamed that his father knew what he and Merlin got up to—he wasn’t—but there were just some things that once seen could never be unseen.

Sometime later, as they approached the Council Chambers, Arthur was baffled to see that Merlin was laughing, and trying unsuccessfully to stifle it. “And just what is so funny?” Arthur asked, not amused in the least, although he knew precisely why Merlin was chuckling. He was, after all, the one person in all of Camelot who had absolutely no respect for authority.

“Did you see the look on your father’s face, Arthur?” Merlin asked, grimacing when Arthur began straightening his scarf and smoothing out his shirt. He slapped Arthur’s hand away. “Okay, now you’re just being silly, Arthur. So he saw us naked. It’s not like he doesn’t know what we do in your room. He knows I’m your lover. Lovers fuck. It’s what hap—“

“Could you just shut up?” Arthur interrupted, wondering how in the world he had fallen for such a complete idiot. “How would you like it if your mother walked in on us standing naked in a bath with come all over us? Would you think it funny then?”

Merlin’s face turned white and he shook his head before he swallowed and looked towards the door that led to the Council Chambers. Several seconds passed before he turned back to Arthur. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Do you ever?” Arthur said under his breath, but he was fairly certain that Merlin heard him. “Come on; my father’s expecting us.” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and pulled him along like a recalcitrant child.

“The timing couldn’t be worse, but my father summoned us because he must be ready to render his decision about your magic, so you will smile and you will act like a proper servant for once. You will give my father no reason to banish you again because I do want to one day be King, but if you go and get yourself banished, that means I have to go wherever you go,” said Arthur, glaring, but the message beneath mustn’t have escaped Merlin, who stopped Arthur’s forward progress and leant in to place a quick kiss on Arthur’s lips.

Arthur still wasn’t sure what it was about Merlin that had initially piqued his curiosity that first day in the courtyard, but what he did know without a doubt was that he now loved that surly, smarmy idiot and would be completely lost without him.

“Ready, Sire,” Merlin said, his expression now serious, and he nodded when Arthur squeezed his hand.

They entered the large room hand-in-hand, and went to stand in front of Arthur’s father. He looked less intimidating than usual, but not at all near what anyone would call happy. Arthur gave Merlin’s hand another squeeze and received the same in return.

They didn’t have to wait long to hear from the King, who turned towards his son, his expression now looking somewhat more understanding.

“Merlin, as a sorcerer, flouts the decrees that have ruled this land for more than twenty years. However, he will be allowed to remain in Camelot, not only because of what he has done for Morgana, but because he seems to be your _lover_ ,” he said sourly, and he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was uttering such nonsense to his son, but his small smile could not be mistaken for anything other.

“Furthermore, I will not ban Merlin from using his magic—I very much doubt doing so would make a difference as he seems to do as he pleases—but for the sake of Camelot, Arthur, keep him in line. I cannot be responsible for what others will do or say if they find out your lover has magic. There are those who most certainly do not know about Merlin’s magic, and I dare say some of them would not look kindly on someone with magic, even if they are someone you see fit to take to your bed. Understood?”

Arthur swallowed. He glanced at Merlin, who had been making undignified noises beneath his breath the entire time his father had been talking, and was somewhat heartened and relieved to see that Merlin now looked pale and unnaturally petrified, just as he should. Arthur understood—he had, after all, spent much of his life having to bite his tongue when facing his father, knowing that to speak up would be unthinkable. “Yes, Sire,” he said as he looked back at his father, waiting for their dismissal so he could get Merlin out of there before he had time to come up with a response that would surely get him another one-way-ticket out of Camelot. Or worse.

“Unless either of you have anything to add, you are dismissed, but before you go I do have one more piece of advice.” A rare wide grin appeared on the King’s face before he cleared his throat and let out a chuckle, looking at his son and nodding once towards Merlin.

“There is this thing called a lock. Might I suggest the two of you use it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set toward the end of series two, but I used canon or ignored it for the story to work. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Please don't forget to leave some love for [deheerkonijn's art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10924833), which is amazing!


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